Consciousness returned to Ryn in waves of pain.
First came the smell—burned flesh and bitter herbs. Then sound: the crackle of a nearby fire, the rhythmic scrape of a whetstone on steel. Finally, agony announced itself in a symphony of screaming nerve endings. His skin felt flayed, his bones hollowed out and filled with molten lead.
"Don't try to move."
Lira's voice. Rougher than usual, as if she'd been shouting. Ryn pried his eyes open to see her seated by a low-burning fire, sharpening what remained of her iron bar. The left side of her face was a mass of fresh scars, her arm bound in a sling made from what looked like torn cloak fabric.
They were in a cave—not the ritual chamber, but a smaller, drier hollow somewhere higher up the cliffs. Through the entrance, Ryn could see the first hints of dawn painting the sky.
"How long?" His voice came out a broken thing, barely recognizable.
"Three days." Lira tested the edge of her weapon with a critical eye. "You nearly cooked yourself from the inside out."
Memories flooded back—the storm's power, Malrik's transformation, that final desperate attack. Ryn tried to sit up, only to collapse back with a gasp as white-hot pain lanced through his chest.
"I said don't move." Lira set aside her weapon and shuffled over, moving with the careful precision of someone hiding serious injuries. She pressed a waterskin to his lips. The liquid inside tasted foul, earthy and bitter, but it dulled the pain almost immediately.
"Where—"
"Black Hollow's upper caves." Lira sat back with a grunt. "Had to drag your half-dead ass up here before Malrik's remaining goons came sniffing."
Ryn's breath hitched. "Malrik is...?"
"Gone. Properly this time." She nodded toward the cave entrance. "What's left of him is dust in the wind."
A weight Ryn hadn't realized he was carrying lifted from his chest. He closed his eyes, letting the relief wash over him. It should have felt like victory. So why did it taste so hollow?
Lira studied him for a long moment before speaking again. "You're different now."
Ryn flexed his fingers. Even that small movement sent strange tingles through his flesh, as if his nerves remembered the storm's touch. "The First Stormcaller... he said the stone awakened something in me."
"Yeah, well." Lira picked up a small cloth bundle from beside the fire and tossed it into his lap. "Awakened this too."
The bundle fell open to reveal shards of the Heartwind Stone. Or what should have been shards—the fragments had fused together into a rough oval, their edges smoothed as if by running water. The surface pulsed faintly, reacting to Ryn's proximity.
"It started doing that yesterday," Lira said. "Nearly burned my damn fingers off."
Ryn reached out, then hesitated. "Did you...?"
"Touch it? Hell no." She gave him a look that suggested he'd asked if she'd tried licking live lightning. "But I've seen enough Astra artifacts to know that's not just a pretty rock anymore."
**[Reborn Heartwind Stone]**
*Size: Palm-sized oval*
*Pulse rate: Matches Ryn's heartbeat*
*Current status: Waiting*
The moment Ryn's fingers made contact, the cave dissolved around him.
Not a vision this time—a *memory*. But not his own.
He stood in a thriving Kael Manor, decades before his birth. The gardens bloomed in impossible colors, the walls pristine. And there, at the center courtyard, stood a younger Malrik—barely older than Ryn was now—kneeling before his father with tears streaming down his face.
"Please," the young Malrik begged. "The stone chose me too. I know it did."
Lord Kael the Third—Ryn recognized him from portraits—looked down with pity. "The wind speaks to you, yes. But the storm?" He placed a hand on the original Heartwind Stone, which sat atop a marble pedestal. "That requires something you lack."
"What?" Malrik demanded. "What do I lack?"
The lord's answer was lost as the memory rippled. The scene changed—Malrik sneaking into the chamber at night, his hands trembling as he reached for the stone. The moment his fingers touched it, the stone *rejected* him, sending out a pulse that left him convulsing on the floor.
Final shift: Malrik stumbling into the arms of a hooded figure whose hands dripped void energy. "There are other paths to power," the stranger whispered. "Other ways to make the wind obey."
The memory released Ryn as suddenly as it had taken him. He gasped, finding himself back in the cave, the stone's warmth seeping into his palm.
Lira's blade was at his throat. "You better be Ryn in there," she growled.
"It's me," he croaked. "Just... saw something." He told her about the memory, watching her scowl deepen with each word.
When he finished, she sat back with a curse. "So Malrik was always a bastard. Good to know." She eyed the stone. "And that thing's a damn historian now?"
Ryn turned the stone over in his hands. "I think it's trying to show me something important."
"Later." Lira pushed to her feet with a groan. "First, we need to—"
A horn blast cut her off. Not from outside, but from the valley below—a long, mournful note that raised the hair on Ryn's arms.
Lira went deathly still. "That's a border horn."
"Wolf Crest?"
"Worse." She moved to the cave entrance, her movements suddenly tense. "Royal army."
Ryn struggled to rise, biting back a scream as his abused muscles protested. When he finally made it to the mouth of the cave, the sight below stole his breath.
Hundreds of soldiers in silver-and-crimson armor marched along the valley road, their banners bearing the phoenix sigil of the High Throne. At their head rode a figure in ornate armor, their face hidden behind an avian helm.
**[Royal Herald]**
*Bearer of the Monarch's Will*
*Authority: Absolute*
*Current Mission: Unknown*
Lira's hand found Ryn's shoulder, her grip painfully tight. "Whatever that stone showed you? Might want to figure it out fast."
The Herald raised a fist, and the army halted as one at the base of the cliffs. When they spoke, their voice carried unnaturally across the distance:
"By order of Her Radiance, all surviving Kaels are to present themselves for judgment." A pause. "Alive."
Lira's fingers dug deeper. "Tell me you've got one hell of a storm left in you, kid."
Ryn closed his hand around the stone. It pulsed in response, warm as a living thing.
"We're about to find out."